


Some Monsters

by KatiraPathara



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Caring, Fluff, Gen, Negotiations, Parenthood, Royalty, no idea how to tag this, protocol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 10:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18179486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatiraPathara/pseuds/KatiraPathara
Summary: When Geralt has been summoned before the Emperor Emhyr var Emreis, he assumes the man wants information on Ciri. The truth is more complicated.





	Some Monsters

Some monsters are dangerous because of their speed, some because of their unnatural strength and size, and some because of their cunning. Geralt would gladly face the worst of these monsters to avoid the task ahead where no sword could protect him.

A thick folded paper rested on the bedside table with its black wax seal with a golden sun still unbroken. Emperor Emhyr var Emreis wanted to see him. Geralt didn’t need to open the summons to know why. 

As Ciri’s legitimate father, Emhyr offered her so much that Geralt could never give. Wealth, prestige, power, land, and above all, a whole army of soldiers willing to die for her. However, the man didn’t care for her as Geralt did, he didn’t worry about her during long dark nights, he didn’t have nightmares about her. He hadn’t spent his every waking thought working to find her as Geralt had. 

Emhyr wished to claim Ciri as one would claim a land inheritance. Not because he wanted it, but because the advantages outweigh the cost. 

Bells tolled outside the cramped bedroom, signaling midmorning. Geralt adjusted the buckles across his chest once more and tugged his sleeves straight. Hesitating would only serve to prolong his torment. Some monsters needed to be dealt with immediately.

Soldiers dressed in full armor and distinct black-winged helms lined the throne room of the Royal Palace two rows deep, each tightly gripping a tall halberd. As his armies claimed more and more cities under Nilfgaardian rule, Emyhr’s power had grown. With each victory, there were that many more people who wanted to see the man dead.

Geralt didn’t care. The man could have all the power in the world, but if Ciri didn’t want to have part of it, Geralt would honor her wishes and keep her safely out of his reach.

At the ended of the vaulted hall, Emyhr sat straight-backed on the tall ornately carved throne watching Geralt make his approach. When he reached the appointed place, he stopped and offered a bow far short of what protocol dictated, earning himself a sneer from the chamberlain standing nearby. He would, however, wait for Emyhr to speak the first word between them. Pushing the boundaries too far would only cost him room when it came time to negotiate.

Emyhr didn’t say anything for a long moment. Instead, he leaned forward a fraction and narrowed his eyes to study Geralt. Satisfied, he straightened and adjusted his quilted doublet. “You look well since the last time I’ve seen you, Witcher. I trust no ill has befallen you.”

“I’m well, your Imperial Majesty. But I fail to see how my health is any interest to you.” Geralt maintained his calm composure. The chamberlain, on the other hand, looked as if he was about to have a fit of apoplexy at Geralt’s lack of decorum.

Emhyr flexed his hand and balled it into a fist. “Ah, but it is. I ordered you to find news of my Cirilla and bring it to me. Seeing that you haven’t done in a reasonable amount of time made me worry that perhaps one of your monsters might have done you in.” His voice remained steady, but an edge ground into it like broken glass.  “But here you are. Not dead. What is your excuse?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed. I’m hard to kill-” Geralt began. He opened his mouth to continue but was cut off.

Emhyr’s fist tightened, the knuckles going white. “I will speak to you in private.”

The now completely overly agitated chamberlain indicated for Geralt to follow him to Emhyr’s study. Had the man been a large chicken, all the feathers of his back would have been fluffed up. The analogy suited him well. He unlatched and opened the heavy door before offering Geralt a short bow. “You will treat the Emperor with all due respect or I will personally have you taken to be flogged.”

Geralt straightened the swords at his back. “Promise?” he asked with a sly smile as he passed inside. Making the chamberlain’s eyes bulge was one of the few joys Geralt afforded himself while visiting the Emperor, and it was all too easy. 

When Geralt entered the study, he found Emhyr with his back toward the door studying the tall stained glass window behind his desk with his hands held loosely behind his back. He waited for the door to close before speaking.  “Contrary to opinion, Mererid isn’t here for you to harass.”

Geralt shrugged. “We’re old friends.”

“You’ve disappointed me yet again. I asked you to bring me news of my daughter and you resort to childish games.” Emhyr finally turned and braced his fists on the desk. “I won’t tolerate it.”

Geralt crossed his hands over his chest. “Ciri made her wishes clear. She knows what you want and wants no part of it. None of this has changed since the last time you dragged me in here.” 

Emhyr’s shoulders and head dropped. “I want to know where she is, Geralt. As her father, it is my right.”

This is where Geralt would not be swayed. It was Ciri’s choice not to bow to the Emperor’s requests. He wouldn’t help the man track her down against her wishes. “She’s come of age. She can make her own decisions.”

“Try to understand my position.” Emhyr straightened. “As rightful heir to the throne she requires protection. I can’t provide that if I don’t know where she is. More than that...” his brow furrowed, something was bothering him. “There are rumors.”

Geralt’s arms dropped. While he prided himself on being well-informed, he had nowhere near the resources of the Emperor. Rumors always meant bad news. “Like what?”

“Avallac’h has been spotted in the North. My sources say he’s seeking her out again.” 

The words struck Geralt like cold stones and winter chill. The elven sage was a mystery to all, one moment tutoring Ciri and aiding them in defeating Eredin, the next raging on about genetics and the Elder Blood. Where he went, danger for Ciri tended to follow. “Any word on what he wants this time?”

“No. That’s what worries me. He’ll find her, he always does.” Emyhr met Geralt’s gaze. “I’d rather she not be alone when it happens.”

The thought of Avallac’h finding her again and her disappearing without a trace for months with no certainty that she’d be safe tightened Geralt’s throat. “That’s why you wanted to see me. Isn’t it? You’re worried.”

“Of course I’m worried. She’s been lucky. Of all that’s happened to her, she’s managed to survive against the odds.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We both know that her luck can’t hold out forever.”

“Say it. Ask me.” Geralt stepped closer to the desk between them and leaned his hands against its smoothly polished surface. He would watch over Ciri regardless, but he needed Emhyr to abase himself enough to put the request into words.

“Why must you do this? What’s it to you?” Emhyr’s words held a trace of strained hurt.

“Because I need to hear it. I think you understand why.”

Emhyr nodded, his lips pressed into a tight line. “I need your help. There’s no one I trust more with Ciri’s safety than you. Not the Lodge, nore any of my spies or soldiers.” He touched one of the papers on the desk, a report from one of his many sources. “I don’t even care if you bother to report back to me. Just…” he paused to compose himself “...stay with her until we learn what he wants. Please.”

The ‘please’ was new. Emhyr never used the term when it came to issuing orders with Geralt before. It revealed a new dimension to the man that Geralt wasn’t used to seeing, vulnerability. Despite the man’s best efforts to maintain the mask of exacting authority, when Ciri was involved that mask had developed cracks. It showed that his concern for her was real and not some political ploy. 

It’s what Geralt needed to hear. He pressed a fist to his chest. “I’m at your command, your Imperial Majesty. I’ll do everything within my power to ensure her safety.

A small sigh of relief escaped Emyhr’s lips. “I know. Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm taking ideas for future shorts, so let me know what you'd like to see.


End file.
